And the principal member of this great system has
been named The Grand Canyon, as a conscious and meaningful tribute to its
vastness, its sublimity, its grandeur and its awesomeness.
It is unique; it
stands alone. Though only two hundred and seventeen miles long, it
expresses within that distance more than any one human mind yet has been
able to comprehend or interpret to the world. Famous word-masters have
attempted it, great canvas and colormasters have tried it, but all alike
have failed. It is one of the few things that man is utterly unable to
imagine until he comes in actual contact with it. A strange being, a
strange flower, an unknown reptile, a unique machine, or a strange and
unknown anything, almost, within the ken of man, can be explained to
another so that he will reasonably comprehend it; but not so with the Grand
Canyon. I had an illustration of this but a few days ago. A member of my
own household, keenly intelligent and well-read, who had heard my own
descriptions a thousand and one times, and had seen photographs and
paintings, without number, of the Canyon, came with me on her first visit
to the camp where I am now writing. As the carriage approached the rim at
Hotouta Amphitheatre and gave her the first glimpse of the Canyon, she drew
back terrified, appalled, horror-stricken. Subsequent analysis of her
emotions and the results of that first glimpse revealed a state of mind so
overpowered with the sublimity, vastness, depth and power of the scene,
that her impressions were totally inadequate, altogether lacking in detail
and accuracy, and at complete variance with her habitual observations.
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